


Of Silly Consulting Detective and Competent Ex-Army Doctors II

by days_of_storm



Series: Of Silly Consulting Detectives and Competent Ex-Army Doctors [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/pseuds/days_of_storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is away for a few days. Sherlock is silly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Silly Consulting Detective and Competent Ex-Army Doctors II

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verityburns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verityburns/gifts).



> This year's birthday fic for the amazing Verity Burns <3

 

“Sherlock, where are you?” John dropped his bag in the middle of the living room, looking at a surprisingly empty couch. Three days away and he had expected the flat to be much more chaotic than it was. And he expected an unwashed, lethargic consulting detective spread all over that couch.

There were so many things wrong with this picture of peace and quiet that John felt panic rising in him and he called for Sherlock again; this time a lot louder. Silence.

He fished for his phone and dialled Sherlock’s number, but there was no answer and John didn’t particularly want to leave a message which he might be embarrassed about later. So he called Lestrade, hoping that he would be able to help him.

Before John had the chance to say anything, he was greeted with a quiet but determined “Thank God, you’re back!”

John had to smile. “What did he do?”

“Is that John?” John could hear Sherlock’s anxious voice in the background.

“He decided to visit. Three days ago. Can you please come and get him?” He sounded almost desperate and John was more than amused by that.

“Why don’t you put him in a cab. I’ve got to unpack and I desperately need a shower.”

“Sherlock? John says he would like you to come home. Now.”

“Is he naked?”

John covered the speaker with his hand and laughed. Lestrade started shouting abuse at Sherlock. John laughed harder.

“Not yet,” he said into the phone when he trusted his voice again.

“And you, too? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m waiting for him. Thanks for babysitting.”

“I heard that,” Sherlock shouted.

“Sherlock, go and get your things. Field trip is over.”

“Very funny,” Sherlock sneered.

“Thank you,” Lestrade said to no one in particular and hung up.

Half an hour later he had put his laundry in the basket, had put his clean clothes away, had had a cup of tea and was ready to have a shower. Just when he started to unbutton his shirt, he heard the door fall shut and quick footfall on the stairs. Sherlock beamed when he saw him and John found himself wrapped up in consulting detective faster than he could say hello.

When Sherlock let go of him in favour of pressing him against the bathroom door by way of kissing, John grabbed two hands full of shirt and pushed him away a bit. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

John’s raised eyebrow was answer enough.

“I will tell you in the shower.”

“Please tell me you were not disclosing any top secret information to Lestrade.”

“I might have mentioned your preference of …”

“Oh dear God, I don’t want to know. I will never be able to look him in the eye again.”

Sherlock frowned, clearly not comprehending why John might feel awkward about him sharing some private information with their mutual friend.

“Okay, shower.” John opened the bathroom door and they both stumbled inside.

For a moment John was perfectly fine with Sherlock grabbing his head and kissing him some more while he tried to undress him, but then he smelled vinegar and detached himself from the man who now tried quite desperately to keep him from turning around and looking at the sink.

“What in the world?” John stared at the black mess which covered the sink.

“Experiment,” Sherlock whispered, bouncing slightly back and forth on his heels. John hated and loved that he became a five year old when he knew he had done something wrong but saw a way to get out of trouble if he was adorable. John hated it, because Sherlock actually managed to divert John’s attention from whatever made him angry to the bouncy bundle of ‘I’m sorry I didn’t think it would explode’. John also loved it, because, apart from the sex, which didn’t seem quite as sacred a topic to Sherlock as it was to him, and the tender moments which they shared in private, Sherlock’s adorable pseudo-atonement would never be witnessed by anyone but John and he cherished those moments more than he would ever admit. 

“When did this happen?”

“An hour after you left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.”

“I was going to clean it up.”

“I can see that. What is that?”

“Not sure.”

“Sherlock!”

“The result was unexpected. One of the acids must have been labelled wrong and then it … broke.”

John couldn’t help but snort at Sherlock’s helplessness.

“And then you fled instead of dealing with it.”

“I think we might need a new sink.”

“Of which you are going to take care tomorrow.”

“Not today?” Sherlock looked truly surprised. 

“No, today you are going to make this,” he waved in the general direction of the sink, “up to me.”


End file.
